


Middle Lake

by AshLilly



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshLilly/pseuds/AshLilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Lavellan's emotions are rushed, angered and panicked over the possible sentencing of Blackwall's lie. In an irrational decision, she urges the courts for her right to oversee his judgment, but struggles to face the truth, unsure if she can even trust the man she's about to free. All she knows is that she can't let them take him. Torn between anger and love, he lives, but she's left too broken to simply forgive. The now-awkward connection between the two still lingers as she questions her decisions. The same eyes stare back at her, catching her every slip, taking every blow, but he can never have her again. Or was she wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Middle Lake always had a steady rustle of moving water. It was peaceful and one of the cleanest bodies of water they'd come across while traveling. Everyone looked forward to the stop.

Summer was the worst time to travel, or at least he thought so. Blackwall had grown so used to the hearty hinterlands with the freezing nights and chilly days, he hated the feeling of his armor sticking to his skin. The lake would be quiet now. The fires at the campsite were just burning embers and the moon above lit his path to the wavy waters.

Middle Lake was actually part of the river, in between the waterfall to their north, but expanding greatly in diameter, creating a large pool of slowly moving water. It was neither stagnant like a lake, nor rushing like a stream. The fish were abundant and the swimming was peaceful.

Two weeks had gone by since Lady Lavellan had made her judgment on his continued presence within the Inquisition. He was granted his freedom, a chance to atone, but the personal betrayal had left too deep of a wound. He had pushed his luck too far for too long, asking her to still consider him worthy of her attention, he was almost stunned, suddenly in an emotional crash when she said she could never trust him again. It was fair, but it was a worse punishment than he had originally been given. Just as he was finding a new purpose to live, something to fight for, rather than die for, it disappeared. Her eyes darkened as he watched a piece of her happiness die from his lies.

Skyhold quickly became an agitated home afterward. Patrons at the tavern would leave, snarling in disgust as they passed him. Others offered to buy him a drink. It all depended on what side of the war they fell on, but even the good attention was unnerving. Iron Bull made it a habit of testing his drinks, almost immune from the poison he'd sampled frequently over the years. No one had made any attempts on his life, yet, but the thought alone kept him away entirely. Sera brought him a basket every morning with whatever was left the previous night.

He was surprised to still be summoned on excursions after his trial, still fighting closely with the Inquisitor. They worked well as a team and for a mage, she'd grown confident in hand-to-hand combat using her new knight enchanter skills. Despite fighting side-by-side for two weeks, the two never spoke of their night together or the events that followed.

 

 

The water was slightly cooler than the summer air as he shrugged off his heavy boots and removed his clothing. The crickets chirped and frogs bellowed, echoing off the clear water. He waded in several feet and took a breath before sinking underneath the surface. The calm silence was welcomed, washing away his sweat and emotions.

He remained underwater for almost a minute before rising above the surface again, scratching his scalp and washing the muck of battle from his hair.

A splash from across the lake caught his attention, leaving a ripple in its wake as it submerged. It disappeared quickly under the surface before he could focus and he back-tracked closer to the shore. Without his weapons or armor he would be defenseless against any predator in the water.

His panic settled when she surfaced again at the opposing shore a thousand feet away.

“She's alone like you,” Cole whispered from under his hat.

Blackwall jumped at his presence. The kid always seemed to _hear_ the troubles on his mind. “I didn't think you'd be out here.”

Cole tilted his head in confusion. “But you shout so loudly?”

Blackwall sighed. No one could hide anything from him. It felt awkward at first, but he'd really grown to like Cole. He always knew how to dissect emotions, unravel them, and find a way to effectively deal with them. Blackwall stubbornly insisted his emotional conflict didn't need to be considered, but neither words or silence could keep him from trying.

Three Hala had wandered towards the opposite shore, greeting Yvette as she stepped out of the water. The Dalish had no need for swimwear and her pale skin almost matched the white Halas.

“She remembers you taking her hand on the storm coast. You lifted her gently and almost stumbled as you pulled her onto the dock. Blushing. Heat. Maker, why did I have to get that blood lotus. Sliding, slipping, my feet. A hand, strong, but gentle. How do I hide the fact that I don't want to let it go. Don't show it. Quiet... Regret.” Cole whispered her thoughts.

Blackwall lowered his head. Whether it was his obligation or instinct to protect, he still found himself lunging to catch her on every slippery slope, every stumble over a rock and stand in front to intercept a blow. That day she'd decided to stock up on blood lotus and slipped down the old wooden dock. He caught her wrist as she fell into the mud below, nearly sliding down the cliff himself. It was a brief touch and Dorian cheerfully mocked their clumsy, muddy mess for one flower, but the moment wasn't forgotten.

It lifted his heart a little, knowing he hadn't just been a temporary fling, a distraction from her work. Not that he deserved any better, but he still had some value.

“Thank you,” Blackwall said as he looked back at the rock where Cole had sat, but he was already gone.

He remained in the shallow, warm water and watched. He was too far to be seen but couldn't look away. She was bare in the moonlight, unaware of anyone besides the Hala. This was her home. The Inquisition was where she was needed, but this is where she was free. The Hala had no fear of her and she stroked their ears as they nudged against her. The tattoos above her brow were slightly darker than her skin, hardly visible, but he could now see how they lit up in the moonlight. Several more could be seen traveling down her back, along her spine and over her hips. He'd only known city elves. The Dalish avoided human contact and the only tales he'd heard were wild exaggerations of ruthless rogues and blood mages. Whatever the truth, none of the rumors could describe her nature. She was unique, maybe even among her own kind.

The Hala waded into the water and began to drink as she dove back under and surfaced again near the middle of the lake. Her midnight swim was almost over as she lay on her back, bobbing with the gentle waves as she lazily paddled back to the near shore.

Blackwall grew anxious, suddenly aware of how inappropriate it would look and he clumsily stumbled out of the water back to his pile of clothing. He glanced back at the water as he hurriedly stepped into his pants. She was gone, somewhere below the surface again and he darted his eyes back and forth nervously.

He could see her pale skin under the surface moments before her head peeked up above the water and walked up the shallow lake floor. She struggled to drag a net onto the shore and Blackwall froze, torn between the fear of being seen and the urge to help with the net.

Loosely held in his arms, a boot slipped out of his grasp, offsetting nature's sounds all around as it fell onto the dirt.

She lifted her head and paused, suddenly aware of his presence, but not startled.

He quickly averted his gaze. “I'm sorry, my la...” he caught himself. “Inquisitor. I didn't realize you were here.”

“It's no harm,” she replied and released the net of flopping fish onto the shore before picking up her garments. “I didn't think anyone was still awake. I forget that humans don't often swim without clothing.” She proceeded to put on her underclothes, not out of comfort, but out of consideration for the human.

Blackwall turned and watched as the loose tunic came down over her head, covering her back and the wild Dalish markings that trailed down to her waist. Her hair was slicked back and her pointed ears had no where to hide.

“I was just gathering some fish.” She turned to face him and reached for the net. “I didn't mean to disturb your night.”

“You didn't. It was a nice view, actually.” He instantly regretted the terrible joke, but to his surprise, she chuckled.

“Well, enjoy the water while the weather is nice.”

She tightened the net around the fish and wrapped the rope over one shoulder before turning back to the camp.

He sighed heavily. What a stupid thing to say. Two weeks of awkward silence between the two and that's the first thing he came up with. A smile peeked at the corner of his mouth, hearing her chuckle in response.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The morning bustle woke Blackwall. It was later than he normally slept and almost everyone else had already disassembled their tents as he peered out of his own.

Disoriented and lethargic, he clumsily rolled the bed cloths into a pile, wrapping it tightly with twine and tore down the tent. Dorian was already groomed to perfection and Sera had a whole fillet of fish hanging out of her mouth as she laced her boots.

“Ugh,” Sera grumbled as she pulled the fish out of her mouth. “We're heading back to the miserable forest again. Feckin' bugs everywhere.” She turned and threw a fish, striking him in the chest. Her uncontrolled laugh was infectious. “Blackwall, hurry up and eat your breakfast so you can carry me over the mud.”

“Why are we going back to the forest?” he asked.

Sera shrugged and mumbled something with her mouth full.

“Apparently there is an open rift on the hillside that has been eating Lelianna's birds. It's almost funny.” Dorian chuckled.

“Eating her birds?”

“Well, we don't know that, although it would be funny. A few letters haven't made it back and a scout saw piles of feathers leading up to the rift, so back to the mud for us. Yay,” Sera said and sarcastically waved her hands.

 

Blackwall rode at the back, as usual. They weren't far from their destination, having only back-tracked half a day before making camp, but the sky grew darker as the storm clouds started to push through. The wind and rain made travel slow as the caravans and equipment struggled in the mud.

“We'll take the lead and deal with the rift. Leave the supply wagons here and we'll regroup in a few hours,” Yvette shouted over the blustering winds.

The Inquisitor, Dorian, Sera and Blackwall loaded equipment separately onto their four horses and continued forward. Without Lelianna's scouts, they would have to survey the area alone and report their findings. Rifts were a matter they were equipped to deal with, but the missing communication birds was more concerning. If someone were intercepting their transmissions, they could be heading into an ambush.

The green glow of the rift flickered on the hillside, although still hidden in the thicket of brush. Yvette dismounted, tying her horse to a stump before beginning the slippery task of climbing up the muddy hillside.

Deep tracks marked the ground and many feathers were littered around. Lightning struck nearby, sending an instant boom across the land that echoed for miles. A wailing demon screeched from beyond the brush, but its shrill was different. It was straining, resisting, as if someone were already attacking.

Yvette peered her head above, gripping the small branches of the brush. The twigs twisted in her hands, pulling away towards the rift, curling her fingers open. Wind blew her hair forward, whipping her clothing like a vortex within the rift. She didn't even realize she was moving forward as she reached out to connect, her feet sliding in the wet soil.

The demon's hand lurched out of the rift, gripping her wrist. Instinctively, she clenched her palm shut, as if grabbing its internal thread, and pulled. The gravitational force of the rift was unlike any they'd ever encountered, sucking their victims, even their demons, back into the void. Even as the gateway collapsed, its force continued to draw her in.

She felt the pressure around her waist. A strong arm wrapped around, reversing the pull that her own weight couldn't. The rift imploded, sending a shockwave back out as it collapsed. The blinding light overwhelmed her vision, but she felt the sensation of being push backward, temporarily airborne. Air rushed out of her chest on the impact, landing on her back as the violent wind suddenly ceased.

She rolled to her side, glancing back at Sera and Dorian who were at the rear. The force of the rift was stronger than any they'd encountered before and even at a distance, they were knocked back from the blow.

She placed her hand down as she began to lift herself, touching metal armor instead of the ground. Blackwall had again put himself between her and harm, not only preventing the rift's gravitational appetite, but also softening the landing.

He gasped for air that had been violently evicted from his lungs.

Yvette rolled off his chest and allowed him more room, leaning over with concern. “Are you all right?”

He held up his hand and coughed, nodding his head in confirmation, and she unconsciously placed her hand on his chest.

Sera came running up from the side, soaked and muddy from the fall and she looked up into the now-clear sky. “That was not normal. Not normal by a long stretch.”

Dorian slowly approached, also observing the clear hole in the sky as he patted off the grime from his coat.

Blackwall rolled to his side, wheezing as he slowly got to his knees and stood.

“Did that rift alter the gravitational pull of its immediate reality?” Dorian questioned.

“It appeared that way. It was devouring its own demon and pulling us inward.” Yvette turned her attention towards the now-empty space.

“Fascinating, yet completely terrifying if true.”

“Looks like it's been eating Lelianna's messengers.” Sera knelt down and ran her fingers over several stray feathers that were tangled in the grass.

“We should get back to the soldiers and send several messengers with the news. Hopefully this is the only such rift, but we need to get word back to Skyhold about the possibilities of more.” Yvette was already beginning to head back to her horse down the hill, pausing with concern as Blackwall leaned heavily on a tree. It was his job to protect members of the Inquisition, but it would never be that simple again.

“I'll be down in a minute,” he replied, trying to hide his struggle from anyone.

Yvette gave a slight smile of gratitude and closed her mouth before speaking.

“Inquisitor, is everyone alright?” One of the scouts shouted from down below. A small party of reinforcements had just arrived on horseback.

“Yes, we'll be alright,” she yelled back and continued to intercept them.

 

“We should have only prepared a small party with reinforcements, ser. The wagons are stuck and we'll be lucky if we can cover half as much ground returning.” Harding briefed the Inquisitor.

“Can we make it back to the lake before nightfall and repair them there?”

“It's likely, but we'll need at least two days to gather enough supplies. In the meantime, I'll send messengers ahead to let them know what happened. Maybe the mages can come up with a theory behind this rift.”

The urgency of the situation had settled and everyone was now focused on merely getting out of the forest. Although the skies had cleared, the ground was still unpredictably mushy as everyone stumbled back to their mounts. Dorian fussed the entire way, picking and pulling at the dried sheets of mud that had worked its way into every wrinkle of fabric. Blackwall remained at the rear and Yvette caught a glimpse of pain as he winced.

 

It was completely dark as they reached their familiar campsite. Several of the scouts had turned back when the storm picked up and already had tents set. Dorian ignited his staff, which was perched higher on his back than normal, and lit the path back to their comfort zone.

The air was hot and humid. Lightning bugs flickered in the darkness, floating through the non-existent breeze. Many at the camp sat beside the fire, entertained by Dorian as he turned pots of lake water into ice.

Blackwall listened to the laughter from the corner of the camp, but didn't participate. He still wore his armor, which was now painfully hot and sticky on his skin, but he didn't want to draw attention to his discomfort. He slipped away quietly towards the lake, catching Yvette's eye as his shadow crossed her path but no one else noticed his absence.

He leaned heavily against a thick oak tree just above the shore and untied the leather straps holding his pauldrons onto his chest piece.

Underneath, the worn, wet leather had chaffed his skin, digging into the muscle from forceful push and bruising several ribs. Alone from any spectators, he removed the rest of his armor and waded into the cool water.

Yvette followed behind at a distance, now seeing the result of their collision that scarred his entire back.

She stepped forward, making little noise as she walked on the pebbled shoreline.

He sat in the shallow waters, which rose up to his chest, leaning back on his elbows and allowing his back to soak. He turned his head as she approached, but made little effort to greet her. He'd done his job and accepted his role.

She removed her boots and stripped down to her underclothes before wading in closer, kneeling down behind him. “Let me see.”

He quickly shot a glance back and then obeyed, leaning forward to expose his back out of the water.

She had never been much of a healer, but she'd learned some of the basic mending spells. Her hands were less delicate at sculpting the subtle craft of healing and she'd always favored the reckless wonders of destructive magic. Her hands were light as they grazed his skin, illuminating the water in a light blue hue as it reflected under the surface.

He breathed in a sigh of relief as the cold numbness stretched over his skin, but it wasn't just the loss of pain. He closed his eyes and let her touch soak in, wondering if she still thought about him the same way. Her palms rested on his back between his shoulders long after the pain had faded.

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly. “I don't think I could have closed that rift in time without your help.”

The gravitational pull of the rift was different, as if somehow devouring its surroundings, rather than spewing demons into the world. Panic had risen in his chest as he envisioned her sliding, inching closer and closer towards the sinking void. It wasn't just a fear of the demons or the rush of battle, it never had been. It never would be again. It was more difficult than any opponent he'd tangled with before, ignoring the drive and motivation to protect something he'd never have. “It's my job,” he said without emotion.

She lowered her head, dropping her hands back into the water and away from his skin. This was her choice. She'd rushed to oversee his trial, to be the one judging. Overwhelmed with the fear of his execution, she made the irrational decision to give her own ruling. Her immediate feelings were rushed, damaged, and eager to punish. Could she have been wrong?

“Is that better?” she asked, touching his shoulder briefly.

He kinked his neck to the side, reaching for his shoulder with one hand to stretch the muscles. “It's still a little tender here.”

Yvette smiled quietly to herself. He wasn't one to admit pain and would have pushed anyone else away. He didn't want her to leave.

She inched forward, coming closer to his back as her knees wrapped around to his sides and began to delicately glide her fingertips over his skin.

He was oblivious to the minutes passing, enjoying the simple touch that glittered his skin with blue magic.

“Lean back,” she said, placing both hands on his shoulders as he reclined, letting the water rise up to his beard as he rested his head back on her chest. He nervously placed his hands on her knees, sliding his fingertips to the underside and stroking the top with his thumb. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, placing her hands on his chest as she lowered her chin to his neck.

“I'm sorry. I was wrong,” she whispered.

His heavy eyelids relaxed and a faint smile cornered his lips. “We're all wrong sometimes.”

She turned her head into him, placing her lips on his neck and raising her opposing hand up to his cheek as she brushed his damp hair away from his face. He moved his left hand to meet hers. The green glow of the mark was dim in its dormant state, but never gone. It illuminated his face as he raised her hand to his lips, intertwining his fingers with hers.

He was nearly asleep when the light patter of rain started to sprinkle down. An hour had passed without notice, curled up in the warm water and the cold beads now interrupted their comfort.

Yvette stretched, letting go of his hand and straightening her legs. “We should go back to camp and get some sleep before the whole group starts to gossip.”

Blackwall snickered at the notion.

 

She stepped beside him, sliding her hand into his on the slow walk back. The camp was quiet, still dimly lit by the fire at the center, but everyone had retired to their tents for the night.

Yvette had been sharing a tent with Sera on trips and Blackwall's hand tugged on hers as he stepped towards his own. She resisted, pulling him back to her and leaning into his chest.

He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, my lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

All of the scouts had finally returned and were working hard before sunrise to repair the damaged wagons. The sun was just starting to rise, sending brilliant red and orange streams of light over the earth.

Sera grumbled at the disturbances and snored more loudly to drown them out. Yvette sighed, giving up on any hope for a bit more sleep and decided it would be best to gather breakfast for the waking crowd.

Cold dew lingered just above the ground and was slowly rising with the morning's heat. Only a handful of the scouts were awake and busy assembling pieces of equipment in need of repairs. Two of the wagons had broken spokes in the wheels and wouldn't make the whole trip. Others had dropped loads of equipment in the mud and now needed a thorough cleaning, but most everyone else was still asleep in the camp.

The morning air was chilly and Yvette wrapped a wool shaw around her shoulders before she tip-toed off into the meadow. She felt lighter, no longer suppressing any confusion or anger. So little had been said between her and Blackwall, but that was how their relationship was. He'd given her time to process the secrets he'd held in for years, and she almost understood why he had to. He didn't leave or hold resentment, even when she turned him away. So many other factors were still unknown. She didn't know who he was before or how it would shape their future, but maybe they could start again.

A small opening in the forest was lined with raspberry bushes and it was the peak of their season. She wrapped the shaw like a sling and began to drop berries into the sack when a wet nose nudged her back. The same flock of Halas frequented the meadows for their fruits and they'd grown friendly with Yvette.

There were six that she recognized and they lazily grazed the surrounding bushes. She sat, offering a handful of berries. One approached, accepting her offer and laying down at her side. She leaned against him, reclining against the soft, warm fur and slipped back into a light sleep, now away from the noise and bustle of the camp.

 

The Hala nudged her side, digging into sling of raspberries around her neck and wakening her. It had only been an hour since she'd dozed off, but the morning sun was as bright as it would be and she squinted at the shadow approaching her.

She was leaning against the Hala, but it was focused on the treasure of berries she'd stored in the pouch, paying no attention to the man walking forward.

“That looks horrific,” Blackwall said sarcastically.

Yvette looked around before noticing the Hala, white as snow, and blood-red berries staining its muzzle as it continued to dig in the pouch.

“If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that Hala had a taste for Elves.”

Yvette stretched, trying to gently push the beast's head by the horns and laughing at the spectacle. “I'm surprised he's not spooked by humans. I've never seen them allow someone outside of the clan so close.”

“I think he's thoroughly distracted,” he joked and approached with caution.

Yvette lurched backwards as her support finally realized there was a human intruder, jumping to its feet and stammering off.

She laughed heartily, watching as the stubborn creature pranced back into the bushes; its mouth lined with red berry juice as if it had just devoured an animal.

Blackwall came down, making himself comfortable on the ground several feet to her side. He was close enough to the bushes to pluck a small handful of berries.

Yvette rolled to her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she surveyed the damage to her sling and tunic. She hadn't dressed into her daytime traveling clothes and the long tunic came down to her thighs, exposing most of her legs.

“I'd like to know more about who you were. I mean, I know what's been documented, but before that. Where were you from? Your Family?” She was sheepishly trying to ask another question that had lingered in her mind. “A wife?”

He laughed in response, as if it was somehow self explanatory. “No. I suppose you'd have to know me before... when I was Thom, I was a self centered, selfish fighter. Too focused on petty titles and rank to notice anyone other than myself.” He continued to tell her of his past, or at least the short version of it, until he reached the part of his treason and he quieted. They both knew what had happened afterward but the man he had been was nothing like the man now.

“What about you? The _Herald of Andraste?_ ” he said with a degree of sarcasm. “Everyone knows of you by now, but I don't think anyone actually _knows_ you here.”

She sighed. “I was horridly uninteresting before all this. I grew up in a clan to the northeast. We had 18 members. I was the second mage at the time and spent my entire life wandering. We never stayed in one camp for very long, so it's difficult to say where I'm from. I was primarily a fisher, and although the keeper wanted me to use my magic for healing, I was never gentle enough for it.”

“No one ever?” he asked, hinting at a romantic tie.

She shook her head. “All the men in my clan were already spoken for and most of the other clans we mingled with often moved too quickly for anything to last.”

The answer brought him some comfort, wondering whether or not she ever had someone special back at home that she missed, or someone that missed her. 

Her eyes focused on a figure behind him. “Don't move.”

He remained still, but judging by the smirk on her face, not afraid. 

The nudge of the Hala's snout pressed heavily on his shoulder, rolling him slightly as it sniffed around for the lucrative berries in his hand. He opened up his hand as it gently lowered its head down and took the gift. 

Yvette inched in closer, reaching up and touching the Hala's forehead. “I've never seen them interact with humans before.”

Blackwall rolled onto his back, stretching his other hand up to touch its cheek. It flinched at his touch, but continued to happily munch on the goodies in his hand. 

“Do you think they can really tell the difference between humans and elves?”

“I was told that they can smell those who dwell outside of the forest, but I doubt they can see the difference of our ears,” she joked back. 

His hand emptied and the creature continued to sniff his chest, nipping at the fabric of his shirt and even his beard. “Ah.” He gently pushed away its nose as it pulled some of the hair out. 

Yvette made a clicking sound with her mouth and the Hala backed away its head, as if obeying a command to stop.

Blackwall rolled back on his side, expecting the Hala to carry on its way now that the treats were gone, but it shuffled behind him before collapsing to its knees and laying down. It's body pressed up against his back, pushing him forward and into Yvette. 

She giggled, putting her hands on his chest as it pushed him. “I think she likes you.”

“I'm flattered,” he said, reaching back and petting the majestic white beast's neck. “She's a bit pushy though.”

Yvette smiled. His pale blue eyes still seemed sad and she gently placed her hand on his cheek. The Hala always seemed to be good judges of character. Most humans hunted them for their horns and pelts, but even when they hadn't, she'd never seen one outside of the clans handle one, let alone lay next to them. 

Blackwall closed his eyes and placed his hand over hers, still afraid of rejection at any time. Even after the previous night, he still questioned whether her kindness had been an act of pity or loneliness, even if it were unintentional. After they'd departed, he had told himself he wouldn't ever be the one to push. Whatever spark still remained, he didn't want to smother its potential. 

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, sliding her hand over his jaw to his neck and back into his thick hair. 

He cupped her face with one hand, brushing her hair back as his index finger traced the rim of her pointed ear. He'd never been close to an elf before, never touched one, but he loved the cute differences she had. Having lived in the woods for decades, it was now uncomfortable in the cities and among his own kind, but she was still wild. Their differences weren't so great. 

She pulled away after several moments, resting her forehead on his. 

“I'll never lie to you again,” he said in his soft, gruff voice. 

She smiled and her bright, copper eyes glinted in the sun. “I know. But you don't have to always tell the truth either.” Something in her voice was playful. “I'm not a very good cook, but you don't have to tell me. You can fib about little things.”

He quietly laughed, content that she didn't shy away or dwell on the subject of lying. 

The Hala behind him shifted, randomly pushing against his back. 

Yvette watched in amusement as she ran her fingertips over his raspberry-soaked palm. “Accompany me to the lake?”

“Gladly,” he joked, looking back at the overly affectionate Hala. 


	4. Chapter 4

She fiddled with her shirt as they walked, trying to break off the dried bits of berries that now stained both the tunic and shaw. As they approached the shoreline, Blackwall paused to remove his boots and she continued forward, lifting the tunic over her head and stepping out of her underclothes. She glanced back and smirked, seeing him frozen mid-boot as she disrobed.

His eyes traveled over the tattoos that swirled up her back and shoulders, flexing on her skin over her small, lean frame. She wasn't ashamed or shy, and among the Dalish, clothing was never worn in the water.

She waded in to her waist, submerging the tunic under the surface as streaks washed down in the soft current. It would be permanently stained, but the majority had been washed away as she turned to throw it back onto the beach.

Blackwall had managed to compose himself and resume undressing, diving into the warm water close by. Yvette swam out in his direction until her feet barely touched the stones below and paddled to keep her chin above the water.

Below the surface, Blackwall scrubbed his head with his palms, roughly washing any dirt or twigs that tangled themselves. He was several inches taller than her and stood firmly on the rocks below as he came back up.

She floated forward, reaching out for his shoulder and pulling herself close to his side. He slid one arm around her waist, holding her against his skin as her feet dangled below. The cool water gave her goosebumps and he couldn't help but feel delight as her bare chest pressed into him.

Supported by his arms, she leaned in, kissing his wet lips and stroking his beard as the water beaded down.

She wrapped her other arm around his neck, leaning into him more heavily.

Blackwall ran his other hand down his back, nervous to be moving so fast, but he couldn't help himself. Her warm skin under the water welcomed his touch , forming goosebumps as he trailed his fingertips down the side of her spine and resting just above her backside.

Her knees rose, shifting her body to his front and wrapping her ankles around his calf muscles. Her mouth grew more feverish as her legs trailed up higher. She brushed up against his center and there was no denying what he wanted. She backed her mouth away, resting her forehead on his, her lustful eyes looked into his and she lifted herself higher, wrapping her legs around his waist, and coming back down to his mouth as he slid inside.

Her mouth opened, letting out a gentle moan onto his lips as she pulled him in with her legs. His grip on her back tightened, sliding down to her waist as he pressed forward again.

Her back arched, rolling her hips in sync with his and she dug her fingertips into the back of his shoulders as she rose higher and higher. Blackwall leaned in, placing his lips on her collar as he nipped gently at her neck, grunting as he let go of any inhibitions. He wanted as much of her skin on him as possible, wrapping one arm up her back, supporting her neck with his hand, and the other traveling down to her buttocks, gripping her flesh as he thrust.

She climaxed, letting out a heavy sigh as her muscles trembled and he reveled in the accomplishment.

Her hands traveled down his arms, reclining as she arched her back. Her chest floated above the water and Blackwall slowed his lustful drive to caress her skin, running his fingertips over her taught nipples and down her stomach as she continued to revel in her euphoric state. He watched as he penetrated under the water, and her body still responded with each thrust, flexing the muscles in her abdomen as she breathed heavily.

He grew hungry with her every squirm and sound, pressing deeper and deeper until every fiber in his body peaked and released. Pulling her hips down, he gasped in relief, his abs flexing and his hands gripping. She peaked again as well, feeling that moment of joined satisfaction.

Yvette leaned forward again, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled in to embrace. Her head was light and she ran her hands over his shoulders and tangled one hand into his hair as she placed a heavy kiss on his neck.

With her legs still around his waist, they bobbed in the water as one, enjoying the cool water as it slowly ran over their heated skin.

He slowly pulled out as his blood continued to cool, but he held her against his chest with his strong arms wrapping around and up her back.

She backed away and began to comb his wet hair back and behind his ears. “What ever will they say back at camp?”

He chuckled, although a part of him was ashamed. Ashamed that he'd disgrace the Herald and just further damage the Inquisition, but also afraid of being kept a secret.

“We should get back,” he whispered with a hint of dread in his voice.

 

Yvette took her time brushing off the bits of berries on the shaw, standing on the beach with only a pair of underpants on. Her tunic was still damp she wrung it out even more.

“I could just go back without it,” she joked, whipping the only piece of clothing she'd worn in the breeze.

He snickered as he put on his last boot. “You could wear mine.”

She rolled the shirt up and flipped it over his head and around the back of his neck, gently pulling him down to her lips.

He wrapped both hands around her lower back, pressing her bare chest into his and playfully tipped her back. “I enjoyed our swim, my lady.”

“I think the Inquisition should plan more excursions out this way.”

 

The walk back was quiet, stopping at the meadow to pick a few handfuls of raspberries for members at the camp. It would be nearly lunch by the time they arrived and repairs would be well underway. Several of the scouts had gone fishing and would have been only a few hundred feet from their secret spot. As the night drew closer, Blackwall aided in the repairs of the wagons while Yvette listened to endless, repeated reports from their bird messengers. It was a good indication that every letter had gone back and both sides could account for all their documents.

Dusk approached and the center campfire was stocked with new wood and several racks of freshly-caught fish. Dorian put on his theatrical show as he ignited the blaze and the crowd began to get comfortable.

Yvette had reclined closer to the fire, casually nursing a bottle of blackberry wine as the group loosened up and laughed at Dorian's repeated magic tricks of turning water to ice and chilling their beverages.

Blackwall had plunked down against an oak tree and away from the crowd, as was his comfort. Although Sera and a few of the others had easily accepted his new identity, many still remained awkwardly silent, reluctant to welcome him back into the fold. He closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the blaze from a distance and didn't hear her footsteps as she slipped down to his side, resting on his arm as the voices grew quieter.

It was a public statement, although she played it silently as she handed him the bottle of remaining wine and rest her head on his shoulder. She was their leader and would set the example.

He lifted his arm, letting it settle around her neck and he stroked the top of her arm, taking a long drink before resting his lips on her head. He may not have been part of the crowd, but he had all the company he wanted.

Dusk turned to night and the remaining scouts slowly resorted back to their tents. Yvette had almost fallen asleep as a somewhat-drunken Sera stumbled up.

“You bumping uglies with the Inquisitor again?” She asked in her _normal_ way.

Blackwall chuckled heartily at the question, somewhat inebriated himself.

“Not that I care. Well I do. I mean, now that you're not all sad and frumpy. Good for you,” she slurred and stumbled back to her tent.

“She's such a romantic,” Yvette said sarcastically.

He sighed, stretching his legs and placing the empty bottle in the grass. “May I escort the lady to her tent?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“If you can find your way there,” she joked, accepting the offer.

 

She laid quietly on her back listening to Sera snore, breathing out of one nostril as her face distorted on the pillow, face-down. Even if she could shake the events from her mind, there was no possible way to rest next to the drunken elf.

The camp was completely quiet and she slunk out of the tent, tip-toeing to Blackwall's as she pulled the opening to the side.

“You're still awake,” he whispered, leaning up on one elbow as he moved to the side, giving an unspoken invitation.

She smiled, and without explanation, stretched out by his side, resting her head on his arm and curling into his chest. The mark on her hand gave off a dim flicker of green light, illuminating his face as she raised it to stroke his beard.

“Thom,” she whispered.

He exhaled heavily. The name was accompanied by mixed emotions. It reminded him of who he really had been, and although he was gone, so was Blackwall. “Why not Blackwall?”

She hesitated to answer and ran her ran up into his hair. “I don't want to call you by another man's name.”

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around as she snuggled her head into his chest.

“It'll take some time to get used to,” he whispered, breathing out one of the first real sighs of relief.

Part or forgiveness is acceptance.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress and I am continuing several more chapters. It's intended to be a short story after Blackwall's big reveal with the following choices - He's free to atone, but she can no longer trust him and the relationship ends.


End file.
